Now and Forever

by Maxwell, Megan

  When I open the door, he looks up at me. I can tell he’s angry. But, hey, that doesn’t surprise me. He lives angry. I tousle his hair.

  “How was school today?”

  The boy moves his head away so I’ll stop touching him.

  “Fine,” he responds.

  I see his lip is looking better than yesterday, but this can’t go on.

  “Flyn, you can’t let the kids keep doing this to you,” I say, crouching down to his height. “You have to defend yourself.”

  “Yeah, sure, and when I do, my uncle gets mad,” he spits furiously.

  I remember what Eric told me, and I nod.

  “Look, Flyn, I get what you’re saying. I don’t know what happened yesterday to make that kid swing at you . . .”

  “Shut up!” he screams in a rage. “You don’t know anything. Be quiet!”

  “OK. I’ll be quiet. But I want you to know I know what’s going on. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen those supposed little friends of yours who go with you in the car, how they push you around and make fun of you when Norbert’s not around.”

  “They’re not my friends.”

  “I noticed,” I say. “What I don’t understand is why you don’t tell your uncle.”

  Flyn stands up and pushes me to get me out of the room. When he slams the door in my face, my first instinct is to open it and give him a piece of my mind, but, after thinking about it, I decide to leave him alone.

  I told him what I know. Now I have to wait for him to ask for help. My phone rings. It’s Eric.

  Delighted, I talk to him for more than an hour. He asks about my day. I ask him about his, and then we start telling each other pretty hot things. I miss him. Before hanging up, he tells me he’ll call again when he gets to the hotel.

  When I hang up, bored and not sure what to do, I go into the room Eric says is mine and start pulling my CDs out of their boxes. When I see the Malú CD that brings me such good memories, I decide to play it on my little stereo.

  While I hum the song that’s so important to my crazy love and me, I keep pulling things out of my boxes. I look affectionately at my books and start organizing them on the shelves.

  Suddenly, the door to my room flies open.

  “Turn off the music. It bothers me,” says an angry Flyn.

  “It bothers you?”

  “Yes.”

  I sigh. The music can’t possibly bother him. It’s not loud enough, but, wanting to be amenable, I turn down the volume on the stereo by two notches. I pick up the books I left on the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the little brat walk toward the stereo and, with a slap of his hand, he turns off the music and starts to walk out.

  I leave the books on a table and turn the music on again. The kid, at the door at that very moment, stops and looks at me as if he wants to murder me.

  “Why don’t you go home?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “Go away and stop bothering me!”

  His face twisted, he walks up to the stereo again, turns it off, takes out the CD, and, without a word, walks to the French doors, opens them, and throws the CD outside.

  Oh God, my Malú CD!

  Without a second thought, I rush after it. I pick up the CD from the snow and clean it with my T-shirt, and when I turn around, I hear the door click as it closes.

  “Please, God, give me patience!”

  It’s cold, very cold, and I try to open the door, but he’s locked it from the inside. I urgently knock on the door.

  “Flyn, open up right now, please.”

  The little devil looks at me through the glass. He smiles an evil smile, turns around, and, after throwing down the books I placed on the shelf and stomping on several CDs, he leaves the room.

  “Fuck!”

  I walk over to the next glass door while my wet tennis shoes sink into the snow. God, it’s so cold! I’m just outside the room where he does his homework, and I see him walk in. I knock on the glass.

  “Flyn, please open the door.”

  He doesn’t even look at me.

  I shiver. It’s horribly cold, and I try to get him to open the door. But nothing. He takes no pity on me. Ten minutes later, when my teeth are chattering, my wet hair is a helmet on my head, and I feel little icicles under my nose, I scream as if I were possessed while banging on the door.

  “Goddamn it, Flyn! Open the damned door!”

  The kid finally looks at me. I think he’s going to take pity on me. He stands up, walks to the glass door, and swish! He draws the curtains. Flabbergasted, I keep banging while yelling at him in Spanish.

  It’s snowing. I’m dressed in my skimpy cotton clothes and tennis shoes. I’m cold. Horribly cold. I rub my hands together and think of what to do. I run toward the kitchen door. Locked. I remember Simona’s not here. I try to get in through the living room door. Locked. The front door. Locked. Eric’s office door. Locked. The bathroom window. Locked.

  I shiver. I’m freezing more and more with every second, and my wet, rigid hair is making me sneeze. I’m going to catch quite a case of pneumonia. I go back to Flyn behind the curtains. I feel like murdering him. I look up. One of the bedroom balconies. Without stopping to consider the danger, I climb onto a stone bench to try to reach the balcony, but I’m so frozen and the bench is so slippery that I fall straight to the ground. I stand up and try again. I sit on a frozen wall, stand up, and before I can reach the balcony, smash! My shoes slip and I’m back down on the ground, but I smash against the wall first. The fall was horrible, and my chin hurts like crazy. I’m aching, lying on the snow, and when I get up, my face is smeared with ice.

  “Open the damned door! I’m freezing,” I scream.

  Flyn opens the curtains, but his face doesn’t look like it did before. He says something. I can’t hear him.

  “You’re bleeding!” he says as he opens the door.

  “Where am I bleeding?”

  But now I don’t need him to tell me. When I look at the ground, I see the red snow at my feet. My gray T-shirt is red. When I touch my chin, I feel the wound, and my hands are covered in blood. Flyn looks at me, scared. He doesn’t know what to do.

  “Get me a towel or something, quick!” I shout at him as I step back in his room.

  He goes running and returns with a towel, but the floor is already bloodstained. I hold it up to my chin and try to calm down. I feel the metallic taste in my mouth. I’ve bitten my lip too. I’m alone with Flyn. Simona and Norbert aren’t home, and I urgently need to go to a hospital.

  “Do you know where the closest hospital is?” I ask a bewildered Flyn.

  The boy nods.

  “C’mon, put on your coat and hat.”

  We run to the door and grab our coats. Drops of blood fall to the floor, but I don’t have time to clean them up. When I’m about to put on my coat, I pull the towel away from my chin; my blood is dripping nonstop. I’m scared, and Flyn seems to be too. I put the towel back, wet with water and blood.

  “Will you help me put my coat on?” I ask him.

  He quickly comes to my assistance. Once we’re both in our coats, we hustle to the garage. I get the Mitsubishi, and, when the garage door opens, Flyn holds the towel against my chin so I can drive. He tells me where to go. My hands and knees are shaking, but I try to keep calm while I’m behind the wheel.

  The hospital isn’t far away, and when we get there and they see the state I’m in, they’re quick to take care of me. Flyn doesn’t leave my side. He tells one of the doctors his aunt is Marta Grujer and asks them to please call her house to tell her to come to the hospital. I’m surprised by the little troll’s skill at giving orders, but I’m in so much pain, I don’t care what he says.

  They take us to another room. When the doctor sees my wound, he tells me the cut on my lip will heal by itself, but they need to give me five stitches on the chin. I feel like crying. Stitches scare me. Once, when I was a little girl, they gave me five on my knee, and I remember the experience as traumatic. I look at F
lyn. He’s white as snow. He’s going through a horrible fright too. When they give me a shot of anesthesia on the chin, I can’t help it, and a tear falls from my eye. Flyn sees it.

  He stands up, and his hand takes mine and squeezes it. The doctor orders him to sit down again, but the boy refuses.

  “You’re just like your uncle,” the doctor says.

  That surprises me, right?

  “Your name is?” the doctor asks.

  “Judith Flores.”

  I close my eyes so as not to look at what he’s doing. Then I hear Flyn.

  “This is Uncle Eric’s girlfriend.”

  I open my eyes. I’m surprised to hear the boy admit that.

  “Well, Judith, I’m going to give you some stitches,” the doctor tells me. “Don’t worry, when they heal, you won’t even notice them. But I’m afraid your face will be swollen tomorrow and for the next few days. You took a hard fall, and I’m already seeing some bruising.”

  “OK . . .”

  I squeeze Flyn’s little hand. Suddenly, his energy is my energy, and I calm down. It’s over quickly. The doctor puts a huge bandage on my chin, applies some cream to my lip, and tells me to come back in a week. I agree. And when I ask how to pay for the appointment, he tells me he’ll talk to Marta.

  Since I don’t much feel like talking and my face hurts, I accept. I take the report the doctor gives me, and, when I walk out, I run into a very distressed Marta.

  “My God! What happened to you, Judith?” she asks, evidently horrified by the way I look.

  Not wanting to give many explanations, I look at Flyn, who hasn’t let go of my hand. “I slipped running through the snow, and, unluckily, I landed on my chin,” I murmur.

  “Leave your car here,” Marta says with urgency. “Norbert will come back for it. Come on. I’ll take you home in mine.”

  I need to close my eyes and forget the pain I’m feeling. It starts raining while we’re on the road, and, when we get home, it’s pouring. When we go inside, Simona and Norbert are waiting for us with fear on their faces. When they returned from the supermarket and saw blood on the floor, who knows what they imagined. They settle down when they see the kid and me, although they still look scared. Flyn doesn’t leave my side. It’s as if he were glued to me. I like it, but it makes me mad at the same time. Everything that happened to me was because of him.

  My head is killing me, so I decide to go to bed. I take the medicine the doctor gave me, remove my bloodstained clothes, and fall asleep. Marta tells me she’ll sleep in the guest room in case I need anything. In the middle of the night, a clap of thunder wakes me. In pain, I turn over in bed and touch Eric’s empty side. I miss him.

  I close my eyes again and relax, and thunder crashes again. I open my eyes. Flyn!

  I get up and, in pain, walk over to his room. On entering, I see his night-light is on, and he’s awake, sitting in bed and shivering. His face is pure fear. I ask him, “Can I sleep with you?”

  The kid looks at me, shocked. I must seem absolutely crazy.

  “Flyn,” I insist, “I’m afraid of thunder.”

  The look on his face tells me yes, and I get into his bed. He puts the pillow between us. As always, keeping his distance.

  “Close your eyes and think of something nice,” I tell him after I get him to lie down. “You’ll see how fast you go to sleep, and you won’t hear the thunder.”

  For a while, we’re both lying in silence while it storms furiously outside. Another clap of thunder crashes, and Flyn jumps with fright in the bed. At that moment, I pull out the pillow between us, grab him by the hand, and pull him toward my body. He’s frozen, shivering, and scared. When I bring him close, he doesn’t protest. What’s more, I notice he covers himself up even more. With care and affection, making sure not to bump my chin, I kiss him on top of his head.

  “Close your eyes, think of nice things, and sleep. We’ll protect each other from the thunder.”

  Ten minutes later, both of us, exhausted, are sleeping in each other’s arms.

  A bump on the chin wakes me. Flyn was moving around and knocked into me. I sit up in bed and touch my chin. The rain and thunder have ceased. I look at the clock on the nightstand. It’s 5:27 a.m.

  God, it’s so early!

  In pain, I’m about to lie down again, when I see Eric sitting on a chair at the side of the room. Eric! I quickly get up. His eyes look worried, and his grimace is serious. He gives me a kiss on the forehead, then takes me in his arms and out of the room.

  I’ve been dozing so hard, I don’t know if this is a dream or reality, until he lays me down on our bed and murmurs, obviously concerned, “Don’t worry about a thing, darling. I came back to take care of you.”

  Surprised, I blink. He gives me a sweet kiss on the lips.

  “But what are you doing here? Weren’t you coming back tomorrow?” I ask.

  “I called to talk to you, and Simona told me what happened. I came back right away. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, baby.”

  Eric scrutinizes me. “Are you all right?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Yes, it hurts, but I’m all right. Don’t worry.”

  “What happened?”

  I’m tempted to tell him the truth. His nephew is a real piece of work. But I want to address it with Flyn first. I don’t want to make things harder for him with Eric.

  “I went out to the garden, slipped, and landed on my chin.”

  His eyes are full of doubt.

  “You already know how clumsy I am in the snow. But don’t worry, I’m fine. The only bad part is the mark it’ll leave. I hope it’s not too noticeable.”

  “How vain.” Eric smiles.

  “I have a very handsome boyfriend, and I want to make sure he’s proud of me,” I clarify.

  Eric lies down beside me and gives me a hug. I notice how his body trembles.

  “I’m always proud of you, baby.” He sinks his head into the crook of my neck. “I just can’t forgive myself for not being here. I can’t bear thinking about what could have happened.”

  His dramatic take leaves me speechless. I’m tired and hurt, so I just curl up against him and fall asleep.

  29

  Eric is sleeping by my side when I wake up a few hours later. It’s the first time I’ve woken up before him. I smile and watch him. He’s so handsome. Seeing him relaxed and asleep is one of the loveliest sights in my life. I want this moment to last forever. For a long time, I just enjoy myself; then he opens his big blue eyes, and they cut right through me.

  “Good morning, my love.”

  “What time is it?”

  Curious, I look back at the clock. “Almost nine o’clock.”

  He brushes his hand over my hair and pushes it off my face.

  “Are you all right?”

  I stretch. “Yes, darling, don’t worry.”

  Eric gets up and heads to the bathroom; after stretching out completely, I follow him. But, when I walk into the room and see my reflection in the mirror, I scream.

  “Oh my God, I’m a monster!”

  My face is a palette of colors. Under my eyes, I have red and green splotches that leave me speechless.

  “Oh God! All I did was fall in the snow,” I say.

  “You must have taken a really rough fall, baby.”

  Oh yeah, I smashed against the wall before falling in the snow. Now I remember it more clearly.

  Eric calms me down by murmuring affectionately, and I remember what the doctor told me: just bruises. Aware there’s nothing I can do about it, I look at myself in the mirror again and sigh. I move my head from side to side.

  “I look horrible,” I whisper.

  Eric kisses my neck. He grabs me from behind and rests his chin on my head.

  “You couldn’t look horrible if you tried, darling.”

  Ha. My face is a disaster. But in the end, I decide to be practical and shrug my shoulders. “The good part is that this will all be over in a few days.”

  I brush my teeth w
hile he takes a shower. When I’m done, I take a moment to watch him. I love his body. Big, strong, and sensual. When he gets out, he takes the towel I hand him and dries off. Having fun, I reach out my hand and touch his cock, making him jump back.

  “Baby, I don’t know if you’re quite up to it today.”

  I burst out laughing. He’s right. I watch him another minute and let my imagination run wild nonetheless.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  I smile . . .

  “C’mon, you little minx, what are you thinking about?”

  Amused by his comment, I inquire, “Have you ever had an experience with a man?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “I’m not into men, darling. You know that.”

  “I’m not into women either,” I clarify, “but I don’t mind their playing with me from time to time.”

  My Iceman smiles and dries off. “I mind if a man plays with me.”

  We both laugh.

  “What if I want to offer you to a man?”

  Eric stands stock-still, scrutinizes me, and says, “I would refuse.”

  “Why? It’s just a game. And you’re mine.”

  “Jude, I told you I’m not into men.”

  I nod, but I’m not about to shut up.

  “It turns you on to see a woman put her mouth between my legs, right?”

  “Yes, baby, very much.”

  “Well, I’d like to see a man with his mouth between your legs.”

  Surprised, he looks at me. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Zimmerman. I’m not into women, but, for you, for the pleasure you get from watching, I’ve experimented; I’ve played with women, and I recognize it has its attraction. And, to be honest, I’d like a man to do the same to you. To stick his head between your legs and . . .”

  “No.”

  I stand up and hug him around the waist.

  “Remember, darling, your pleasure is my pleasure, and we are the owners of our bodies. You’ve shown me a world I didn’t know. And now I want, I long, I desire, to kiss you while a man—”